Cold Hands
by Willowbooks
Summary: Danny has cold hands, Casey has cold feet. [DannyxCasey slash, oneshot.]


**Title: **Cold Hands**  
Pairing: **Danny/Casey**  
Fandom: **Sports Night**  
Rating:** PG-13**  
Warnings: **A couple of bad words & some boykissing.**  
Spoilers:** None.**  
Disclaimer**: This show is not mine. Otherwise, there would be no Pixley and NO Dana/Casey, trust me.  
**Summary:** Danny gets cold hands, Casey gets cold feet.**  
A/N: ** Wehey… Boy, this has been building for years! I'm so glad I'm finally getting some of this stuff done! This is my first and probably my last Sports Night fic, but enjoi all the same. Those two are MADE for each other.

**Cold Hands**

Danny's feet sank deeper and deeper into the freezing snow as he followed Casey through the park. An icy blast of wind hit him right in the face and he shivered, hunching down lower into his coat and grumbling.

"Where are we going, Case?"

"You'll see," Casey replied mischievously, giving him an uncharacteristic wry grin.

Danny's heart skipped a beat at the smile, but he forced himself to stay nonchalant. This wasn't a good time for that.

"But where? We're in the middle of the park, and I'm freezing my ass off, and we haven't even written our script for tonight! Case, its three o'clock already, Dana's going to kill us!" Danny whined.

"Here we are," Casey announced, gesturing widely to a wooden bench.

Danny stared at it. "You brought me all the way here… to sit on a _bench_?"

"Ah, ah," Casey said, waggling a finger at his friend. "This isn't just _any_ bench. Come, sit," he grabbed Danny's wrist and dragged him round to sit on it.

Flopping down with little enthusiasm, Danny looked at Casey. "I don't see what's so special."

"Not _me_. I know I'm good looking, but that's not the point right now. Look ahead." He gestured in front of him with a nod of the head.

Danny did. And what he saw made him understand what exactly _was_ so special. Not that looking at Casey hadn't been special in its own way, he thought. He snuck a glance at the man next to him and saw him leaning back calmly, his left had rubbing his neck absently and his right… his right hand was casually laid on his thigh – and Danny's, Danny noticed with a gulp. Casey's hand was pretty much on his thigh!

Not that he wasn't used to it, mind you. This wasn't the first 'casual' touch that he'd gotten from Casey. The odd arm around the shoulders, the hand clutching his arm when he was excited, the overly touchy-feely attitude when he was drunk… but none had been in such a – it pained him to say it – _romantic_ situation as this.

"Dan?"

He pulled himself out of his reverie and focused his brain to pay attention to the sensational view down the snowy whit_e _hill ahead. He then turned to Casey.

"Yeah?"

Casey rubbed his forehead and sighed. "I've got something to tell you, Danny."

Danny raised his eyebrows as his stomach knotted. 'Calm down,' he told himself. He couldn't afford to be so damn _hopeful_ all the time.

He shivered, the cold really starting to get to him. "Go ahead."

But Casey was distracted by the shiver. "You still cold?" He asked, somewhat concernedly.

"A bit, but it doesn't matter," Danny waved it away. He then realized that he couldn't feel his hands. He rubbed them together, but it made no difference.

"Here," said Casey, grabbing his hand gently, he rubbed it between his own. Danny almost withered right there on the spot. How the hell were Casey's hands so warm? Danny must have seemed zoned out with the cold (though it was actually for quite a different reason) because Casey looked at him for a moment, then said, "Come on, let's go back," And stood up.

"What about that thing you wanted to tell me?"

"I'll tell you when we get back; it can wait," he replied.

Danny shrugged his shoulders and allowed Casey to pull him back up to his feet by his now-warm hand.

They trudged back to the studio in relative silence, and stayed quiet in the elevator ride all the way to their office. Casey followed Danny into the room and shut the door behind him, watching as the other man instantly strode over to the bubbling coffee machine.

Danny pulled out two mugs and looked over his shoulder at Casey. "Want some?" he asked.

Casey realized a little too late that he was staring at Danny and shook himself mentally. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sure."

Danny had seen the stare and took a deep shuddering breath before picking up the two full mugs – strong black coffee only – and turned towards the couch, handing his best friend his favourite Peanuts mug.

"Thanks," Casey mumbled, and there was an awkward silence – their first in seven years or so – as they blew on their scalding drinks. Casey took a sip, feeling his eyes water slightly as he burned his tongue and non-too-discreetly looked up at his friend, who was standing in front of him, head turned to the left looking out of the window as he drank his coffee, as was his way of dealing with uncomfortable moments.

The door suddenly opened and Dana poked her head through.

"Hey, you guys got your scripts ready yet? We need to get them up onto the autocue," she asked, leaning in the doorway.

There was a pause as neither answered. "Right," she said, slightly coldly.

Casey, hating the fact that he seemed to be insulting Dana, opened his mouth to answer, but she either ignored it or didn't see it. "Um… have I interrupted something? I've never known you guys to be so quiet. Normally you'd be yelling excitedly about some story or chucking a ball around at this time of day." She checked her watch.

"We're just, uh, brainstorming," Danny spoke up. "Not much in the way of sports tonight." He said with a tight, forced smile. He was actually lying through his teeth, as both Casey and Dana knew very well; there was a Pistons game that was very important and he hadn't shut up about the odds on who to win all week.

Dana raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

Casey cleared his throat. This thing with Danny was now or never; his courage was peaking. "Anything else, Dana?"

She knew very well she was getting the brush-off, and didn't appreciate it one tiny little bit, but the atmosphere between the two was so abnormal and tense that she decided to roll with it; she could always yell at them later.

"So… no scripts, then?"

"Like Dan said: we're brainstorming."

Dana took that as an official kick out of the door and nodded before turning round, closing the door behind her.

Dan let out a breath and went to sit next to Casey. "That was pretty cold, Case."

"I know."

"She's gonna get you for it later."

Casey sighed. "I know."

"So what was it you wanted to tell me?" Danny asked.

Casey cleared his throat and stood up, suddenly very nervous about the whole thing. He carried his mug back over to the coffee machine and set it down. "What the hell was with that lame excuse you gave Dana?" he snorted weakly. "We all know about that Pistons game."

Danny knew exactly what Casey was doing, and decided to help him out.

"Case. You're stalling; surely what you have to tell me isn't that bad?"

'You _have no fucking idea_,' Casey thought. Turning round and leaning against the table, he bit his lip as he searched for inspiration. He'd had all this planned earlier. "I, uh… Danny, I…" He faltered.

Danny stood up and went to stand in front of him, that little bit too close, which both noticed but neither mentioned. Danny peered into Casey's eyes. "What is it, Case?" He asked, a little breathlessly.

For once, Casey really had no words for it, so he just reached forward in one fluid movement and hooked his hand behind Dan's neck, pulling him towards him and kissing him hard on the mouth.

Danny's eyebrows would have disappeared into his hair had he had enough of it on his head. He didn't react to the kiss due to such complete shock, and then realized that he'd made a huge mistake in not doing so as Casey pulled back roughly.

"Shit… Danny, I'm so sorry," Casey said, walking over to the couch and sitting down, putting his arms over his head.

Danny just stood there, still feeling Casey's lips on his and the warm place where his hand had been on the back of his neck.

He really didn't want to leave Casey like this for any amount of time, but he needed to do a quick think. He ignored the hyperactive delirious feeling inside him as he though about the fact that _Casey had kissed him_, and asked himself: Do I really want this? There were pros: it was Casey, and he loved him, and there were cons: Dana, the rest of the staff, the press…

The decision took a grand total of seven seconds, before he was striding across the room to sit next to Casey. He put his arm around his shoulders and nudged him.

"Case."

He didn't move.

"Case," he said, a little more impatiently. Casey looked up at him, right in the eyes, his gaze filled with anguish and self-loathing at Danny's misinterpreted reaction.

"I'm so sorry, Danny," he said, and Dan noticed with a heartbreaking wrench that Casey's eyes were brimming with tears. Casey opened his mouth to try and stumble out something else probably equally apologetic but his just caved instead.

Though he couldn't help feeling ruthlessly cruel, Dan struggled to stop laughing. The irony of the situation was totally ridiculous: Casey, crying because he thought that Danny hated him for the kiss, whereas the latter was actually over-the-moon happy about the entire experience.

Casey saw the creases at each side of Danny's mouth and recognized the look in his eyes very well. "Well fuck you, Dan." He snapped, standing up.

All of Danny's mirth melted away at the cold tone of voice. "Hey, Case, hang on. You've got it all wro-"

"Well I know _that_. What makes me sick is the fact that you think it so _funny_ that I've just made the biggest revelation to you in all my life." Casey sat on Danny's swivel desk chair and turned his back on his friend.

"What about that time in Madrid? You know… with the pig and those three Yiddish men?" Danny asked.

Casey swirled round furiously. "Hey – no. We agreed to never mention that again, and it will stay that way. Along with this moment right here."

"Which moment?"

"This one, right here. Where I've made our live awkward and complicated because I can't control myself." Casey looked so pitiful and upset that Danny couldn't take it any longer.

"Stand up."

"What?" Casey looked up.

"Stand up, Case." Dan demanded. And the second Casey was on his feet he surged at his, slamming his mouth into the other's and pushing his back to the wall.

Casey stood shocked for a moment, before responding with great enthusiasm, including running his hands over Danny's crew-cut head and round his neck. Dan busied himself with slipping his hand up under Casey's shirt and up his stomach to his chest, feeling the chest hair that he knew he'd never have.

Twenty minutes later the teenage makeout had moved from the wall to the couch, and then there was a knock at the door. Jeremy opened it, slipped his head in, saw the two topless men in each other's arms and went bright red. He then mumbled something about Dana and scripts and death before hurriedly pulling his head back out and slamming the door.

Casey and Danny looked at each other for a full minute before Casey, on top, began laughing – more out of relief than anything else – and fell on top of Danny, burying his head in the other's shoulder.

Danny soon joined in, and suspiciously, there was applause and several shouts of "_Finally_, you lazy asses!" from the control room as they took their seats to record the show that evening.

The End.


End file.
